Dawning of War
by Reclusiarch Mikelus
Summary: An unknown alein force threatnes the most crucial world to all the forces of Space: Earth. Can the Titans, even with the armies of quite possibly the most powerful forces, stop the invasion? Or are we doomed? [Dawn of War crossover here slightly]


(Please note: In the writing of this, I'm going to have to say I own nothing of the Titans, and Dawn of War. Don't worry, you don't need to have played Dawn of War, or even know what it is to follow this story. Everything will be explained)

_**Chapter One: In Darkness, Judgement**_

Day by day, it's just a matter of time until we break. It's just a matter of time before we are judged. I always wonder when my day will come. And I can't help but feel that my time is close, though I may never die. Blessed and cursed with the strengths of a vampire and demon and extreme physical health and strength, I fight for blood and glory. After all, when we're gone, what will we be remembered by?

And that is the only thing I fear: to be forgotten. I will work my skin to bone and those bones to dust to ensure I am not forgotten. If it takes a mass genocide, so be it. If it only takes one kind act, then so be it. Being a supernatural creature gifted with powers of darkness, I doubt I'll ever be forgotten. With a name like Malice, that further lessens the chance.

But rather than sink into dreams and thoughts, I drew myself upright, and challenged the current Master of the NightStalkers. He had grown old and complacent in his middle age.

"Necruix! I challenge you to a deathmatch for the right to lead the NightStalkers! Accept or forfeit!" I commanded, standing up. He turned to face me, startled. How I hated that surprised look, as if he hadn't known I was planning this for months. Rage burned inside like a demonic furnace.

"Malice. How I expected this challenge, this honor to defeat you, my most ambitious and powerful student. I accept your challenge. You will be remembered Malice. For your crushing defeat."

Having no further words, and wishing to waste no time with pretty litanies, I charged forward, my scythe at its downward ready position, robes billowing in the speed. I brought the scythe up to my left side, and slashed diagonally down at Necruix, causing him to stumble at the sheer speed. The attack was meant to intimidate and push him back, which it did.

After recovering, Necruix stabbed forward with his spear, attempting to wound me, but I slipped just past all of his blows, dodging and evading instead of blocking. And when I was at point-black range, I spun around, ducking as I spun, and took him down with a sweep. But before he could hit the ground, I grabbed him and threw him in the air, and leapt up to him, and planted my foot in his stomach, causing him to crash down to the ground.

When he got back up, I smashed the butt of my scythe into his nose, causing him to collapse. He tried to get back up, but I smashed the butt of my scythe into his head, dropping him again. And I slammed the end of my scythe into his limp form over and over again until my best friend, Mephisto, ran up and stopped me.

"You won Malice," he said. "Finish him. Give him an honorable death."

"…No." I slowly said, with purpose. "He failed as a teacher, and this defeat will mirror his failure in life. Remember him, brothers and sisters! Remember him as the teacher who was as much of a failure in life as a teacher."

And I walked off, now thoroughly pleased. For me, everyday is a challenge to get through. It seems that everyday the strain on my body gets greater and greater. Maybe I'm delusional? Maybe it's an illusion. I left little thought to the matter as I drifted into the dark world of dreams…

_A great black void surrounds me, obscuring all I can see. I flail about, feeling helpless. I can't stand helplessness. I thrash and struggle to break free from this oppressive grip held on me. I feel as though I'm between the hammer and the anvil. Thoughts enter my mind, such as, 'Was I right to challenge him? Was it in my power? Was I disrespectful? Am I being judged? Is it right that I be judged?'_

And I awoke with a very loud scream, in the middle of the couch in the main room type area.

"Raven, you okay?" Robin asked, looking thoroughly concerned. I glanced at the clock, it was 3:52 A.M. and storming outside. It looked to be a fierce tempest.

"I just had the strangest dream. As though I was helpless and in another person's dream. And I felt like I was being judged in the blackest void." I informed him, hurriedly, and in one breath, as though I would forget if I waited any longer.

"…I have no idea what you mean, but it must've been weird." He commented. He put his hand on my head. "Why don't you try to get some more sleep? We need to be ready for anything at any time."

"I know… well… back to the void of sleep I guess." I said, letting myself slip into dreams. It might have been a nice dream, if I wouldn't have been woken up as soon as I started to dream. That infernal alarm.

"Titans! Trouble! We've got a sociopathic killer on the loose. He's fond of victims under age 18, preferably ones that resist, as it gives him a sadistic thrill. We need to incapacitate him as quickly as possible. Move!"

And we were off, using various means to get to where he was spotted. I'll never know how that infernal alarm spotted things. And why said spotted things stayed in the same area, as we generally took enough time for them to be gone and leave no trace. But by the time we got to the scene, another figure had already engaged him. The killer was just dressed in black street clothes, while the other figure was dressed in pitch-black robes. So black that he blended in perfectly when there was no light present.

At the sight of this, Robin was stunned. We usually don't encounter someone already fighting a criminal, and never one that has the criminal foaming at the mouth.

"Stand still so that I can eviscerate ya!" The killer grunted, trying to slash the robed figure with a large machete. He was missing every swing, though the robed figure was but a foot from the killer. The robed figure also carried a large, intimidating scythe that was covered in hellish runes. It gleamed with a vicious, vampiric glow in the light.

"I tire of this game." The robed figure spoke with a deep, slightly demonic voice. "Your head has been paid to be on a pike. And I will make it so." And with that, he raised the gleaming scythe, and brought it down, decapitating the killer on the very spot. The killer's head thudded to the ground. "Your head will make a pretty wall decoration."

"Hey…!" Robin yelled, running forward. The figure turned, slowly, with a deadly look in his eyes.

"Yes, how can I help you?" He asked, simply. There was no veiled threat, no hidden intent.

"What gives you the right to kill him?" Robin asked, incredulous. Normally we liked help from strangers, but they have never simply killed a criminal before. And I knew the world was definitely better off without this criminal.

"What gives you the right to ordain what I can and can't do?" The stranger asked. "But here," and he pulled a furled piece of paper from under his robes and showed Robin. "this writ of execution does."

Robin read through the document, incredulous. His eyes scanned the paper psychotically. He looked at the paper again and again. He flipped it over. He scanned the inking of it. He tried everything he knew to try and prove it false.

"Who are you?" Robin asked, horror in his eyes. He handed the writ back.

"I am Malice, the Butcher." He replied. He was about to leave, but his eyes scanned us, and when he sighted me, he stopped. He slowly, with intent and purpose, moved toward me until his face was inches from mine. I was able to clearly see every scar on his face. He had a long scar running across his left cheek, down his right eye, and in many other places too. His hair wasn't visible. But his eyes, those unholy eyes, were clear as a light in a black void. They were dark red, glowed, and seemed to pierce through my eyes. And when I put it all together, realization dawned.

"Eliphas?" I asked. He nodded, backing up. His eyes still pierced mine.

"Raven. I haven't seen you since we were six."

"Eliphas, what happened to you? Why did you leave me?" We had been childhood friends. And one day, he just simply disappeared. I had wondered every day of my life until this day what happened to him.

"I was taken away for atrocities I had not committed. And when I was in the Torture Centers, the Oblivion Legion extracted me. And I have been with them since." He told me. I cringed at the mere thought of the Torture Centers. They were Hell in a building, and no one ever came out the same.

"How did you survive?" I asked.

"The thought that I would one day I would be released, and I could take my just vengeance." Malice, or Eliphas, began. "And I was given to that thought. That ideal, that by taking vengeance I could resume my former life. But it consumed me. And now, I seek to make every being on every possible realm to remember me."

"But you're better now right?"

"I am not given to the all-consuming rage, but I am still given to battle and bloodlust." Malice replied. He turned. "I am sorry Raven, but I'm not who I once was. And I never will be."

With that he disappeared. Though it saddened me that he was given to the lust of battle, it did hearten me to see that he was still living. I wondered what he meant by the Oblivion Legion. Maybe it doesn't matter; maybe it did. But who am I to judge?

_**End**_


End file.
